


the days with you always shine

by mulkki



Category: TsukiPro the Animation
Genre: M/M, SOARA, Tsukipro, awkward rooftop conversations, dense idiots, someone give soushi an award
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2019-01-08 13:46:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12255588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mulkki/pseuds/mulkki
Summary: Mori is always gentle, and kind, and polite, and easygoing—everything Sora isn’t. He also knows, from previous experience, that he’s forgiving, and patient, and bears with a lot on his own. So heespeciallyknows that when Mori gets mad, there’s a very good reason for it and whatever the cause is, it’s gone too far.





	the days with you always shine

**Author's Note:**

> so uh. I rly wanted to get out a fic for each group in time for the anime starting soon but... I couldn't make it... I barely made it with this one... wheezes, 3 our of 4 aint bad right......
> 
> sobs into my hands im so sorry to my precious beloved growth boys, i love you, i promise i love you, sobs, im so sorry i failed you
> 
> in other words this old skeleton is ridiculously excited for tsukipro anime, i just. who! who wouldve thought!! that this random series of drama cds i picked up on a whim would get an anime like a year or so later, sobs into my hands, congrats tsukipro!!!

“This was a bad idea. This was _such_ a bad idea. Who came up with this? This is suuuuch a bad idea, no really, _guys—aaaaaaah!!_ ”

A bloody figure jumps out at the screen and Sora jumps in tempo, proceeding to bury himself further into the couch in reply—he scrambles in the dark, arms flailing and searching for something, _anything_ real and not some terrifying mangled body part. “ _Guuuys!_ Seriously! You guys are awful! The worst!” His hand hits something warm—it’s someone’s arm, belonging to whoever happens to be next to him on the squished couch ( _and_ not _a dismembered limb!_ ) and he clings to it like a life raft. Yet he can’t tear himself away from the red ooze and body parts flying on the screen.

“Sora, shut up, you’re louder than the movie.”

“Yeah, for real.” Nozomu’s voice floats from somewhere in front of him—he’s lounging on the floor, merrily snacking away despite being front-and-center to the display of blood and guts flying everywhere. “What’s so scary about a bunch of red syrup? And that other stuff is definitely some kinda fake rubber and plastic.”

To be so mocked by Nozomu, of all people. Soushi’s comment earlier, Sora can begrudgingly accept: years of living as family friends will somehow make a guy more believable ( _“Sora, you should listen more to Soushi-kun from the Kagurazakas, he’s such a good level-headed boy!” so says his mom, once upon an innocent and horror-less childhood day_ ). And on top of that, he has the unfair advantage of being that big and able to defend himself from likely axe murderers, not to mention smaller, more delicate singer-songwriters like himself.

Anyways: _Nozomu?_ Telling _him_ what’s up?

He feels like the punchline to this entire awful joke of a situation when Nozomu speaks up again. “Look Sora, even Ren’s doing better than you.”

Without letting go of the arm he turns to look at Ren: it’s kind of true, he has to admit. He’s pale, and even quieter than usual, but he’s currently not holding on for dear life to someone else’s arm. He’s also managing to breathe and keep his eyes open, and the cushion he’s hugging doesn’t seem to be threatening to rip—which, he hates to admit it, really _is_ more than what Sora’s got going for himself right now.

The ( _“fake, I tell you,” laughs Nozomu_ ) carnage on screen starts intensifying as the movie reaches its climax, and Sora can’t do it anymore. He clings to the arm and buries his face against it, pressing his whole body against their side. Whoever they are, _bless them_ for being an unwitting shelter during these difficult times!

The arm suddenly flinches in surprise, and so does Sora—he jumps just as a helpless victim on screen screams, and as he scrambles backwards ( _without screaming—that was just the movie, pinky swear_ ) he finally realizes who he’s been clinging to.

What he sees is a surprise: it’s Mori, which isn’t the surprising part—it’s how he’s burying his face in his other free hand, the one Sora hadn’t been cutting off the circulation of.

Huh. That’s new.

Mori is usually very level-headed, and scary movies don’t really faze him much. He’s the kind of nice person who will join you for a movie night, let you choose, and not complain about it. Actually, he deals with anything pretty well—from the bits and pieces Sora can remember amidst the trauma of marathons past, anyways. He’s no Soushi, much less Nozomu, but still. He’s never shown signs of being terribly weak against horror movies.

But this Mori right now, knees drawn up to his chest, face buried in his other arm; the arm Sora clung to limp at his side, like it’s been abandoned in all the chaos.

_Mori, of all people, losing to a scary movie,_ Sora wonders. 

Oh, he’s totally gonna use this against him.

* * *

After what feels like an eternity more the credits roll and the lights come back on; with it Sora feels his soul returning to his body.

Soushi is the first one up, stretching and turning to check on the rest. He rolls his neck and starts picking up stray bags and wrappers, while prodding Nozomu with a foot to do the same. He pauses to check on Ren, who’s okay—he’s significantly less pale than before, and is starting to laugh at Nozomu’s bad imitations of the murderer.

Sora knows he can’t say the same for himself, as he uncurls from his seat on the sofa and stretches his stiff limbs. “That was awful. Why did we do this again? Why couldn’t we have something cool, or I dunno, something funny with dogs?”

“Because,” Soushi answers, “it was Nozomu’s turn to pick. That’s the rule, remember? Whatever someone picks for movie night,” he continues, and Sora could swear he just saw him roll his eyes. “We all have to sit through it.”

“Yep!” Nozomu throws a hand in the air in a mock salute. “You can always count on me for _quality_ movies.”

Sora glares at him. “Nozomu?”

“Yes?”

“You’re the worst.”

Nozomu just laughs in his face. “Pfft, Sora, just because you’re a chicken.”

“Rude!”

“It’s the truth!” Nozomu turns to Ren and Soushi. “Right, guys?”

On one side, Soushi nods way too quickly. Ren, to his credit, at least hesitates before nodding. _The both of them!_ “Traitors!”

Soushi _really_ rolls his eyes then. “Who said I was on your side to begin with?”

Ren tugs at his sleeve cuffs. “Also, um. I don’t think there really are sides to choose from here. After all, it’s more or less a given fact, right? That Sora-senpai is bad with horror.”

“True,” Soushi laughs, thumping a heavy hand at Ren’s back.

“You guys! All of you!” He turns around, looking for his last hope. “Mori!” He’s not on the couch, where—

“—Hm? What is it, Sora?” Mori appears behind him, standing behind the couch.

“Oh, Mori, since when were you there?”

“Oh, I just went to turn on the lights.”

Sora nods dumbly. “Oh, right.” He shakes his head—this isn’t where he was going! “Anyways! Mori! I’m not a chicken, right?”

Mori laughs—to the untuned ear it might’ve sounded normal, but to Sora’s _highly trained_ ears it’s the surface-level nice one, the kind he does when Sora breaks something and Mori sweeps it up. “Sora, you’re fine just the way you are.”

“That’s what mothers tell their sons who don’t win first place.”

“Well, Sora, you’d win first in plenty of other things. It’s okay if you’re not good with horror.” Mori offers him a smile, in that shining Mori way of his. _All of them, even Mori!_ Sora pouts, until he remembers.

“Well.... Mori- _kun_ ,” Sora starts, “I seem to remember during the movie you weren’t doing so well yourself.” He smirks, unveiling his hidden card. “Hmm, what was it? I seem to recall _Morihito-kun_ here hiding from the movie _pret-ty clearly_ , all curled up like—” he pauses to draw his knees up, recreating the pose he’d seen, “—this!” It comes out muffled, but that’s the price of burying his head in accurate demonstration. It’s fine, they’ll get the picture anyway. He flaps his elbows, wrapped around his head and knees, for emphasis. When he thinks he’s held it long enough for them to get it, he lifts his head.

What he sees actually catches Sora off-guard—he didn’t expect it to work.

Mori, always cool, calm, and collected; Mori, never falling to any of Sora’s taunts, and always just graciously nodding and accepting whatever is tossed his way. That same Mori: now uncharacteristically flushed, and looking like a guilty child caught hiding a secret behind his back. The uncomfortable silence as Mori clams up makes sweat bead on his own forehead.

Well, he’s not going to get anything by sitting by. “H-hah, look! Mori can get scared, too!”

Nozomu makes a low whistle. “Wow, honestly, I didn’t expect that. Mori-senpai, did you?”

“Maybe Sora-senpai just saw wrong?” Ren tilts his head, eyebrows furrowing. “After all, he did spend more than half the movie hiding.”

“Hey, how would you know—”

Mori, who’s managed to recover in the meantime, shakes his head and laughs. “It’s okay, everyone—it’s true, maybe the movie did get to me more than I expected.”

Sora jumps up from the couch, pointing at Mori. “Ha!” He cackles out into the open. “So there you have it! Mori admits it! I’m not the only chicken!”

“Sora-senpai, you just admitted to being a chicken.”

“Ah, nice catch, Ren.”

“Ah—” Sora stops and turns, realizing his words. “—Anyways! I know what I saw, because he flinched when I, uh,” he can’t admit to full-on _clinging_ to his arm—what to do? “I uh, brushed his arm! We were sitting next to each other, after all.” As he sweats, he doesn’t notice Soushi raising his eyebrows at Mori. He also doesn’t notice Mori looking quickly away, staring down at the floor.

“Okay, Sora, knock it off.” Soushi raps a knuckle against Sora’s forehead. “We all know you’re awful with horror already, there’s no need to drag Mori into this.”

“But!”

“It’s fine, guys.” Mori cuts in. “Really, it’s fine, I don’t mind. Yes, the movie scared me a little.”

Soushi cocks an eyebrow at Mori, to which Mori just nods in reply. In the end he sighs and shrugs. “If you say so, Mori.”

Mori nods again, firm. “I do.”

Soushi claps his hands together. “There you have it, folks. Now,” he turns to Sora, cutting off any protest. “Let’s finish cleaning up.”

   


———

   


_“Soushiiiiiiii-kuuuun——”_

“Yeah?”

Sora drapes himself over Soushi’s shoulders with a deep sigh. Soushi doesn’t bother to look up from his book, though, and Sora has to shake the both of them from side to side until Soushi mutters under his breath and finally puts his book down. “Sora, _what_?”

_“Soushiiiiiiiii——!”_

“I’m going to kick you out.”

“You wouldn’t, not to your dear childhood fri—”

“—One,” Soushi counts, getting up. “Tw—”

“—Okay, okay!” Sora frantically waves his hands in the space between them as Soushi inches closer, pushing Sora back to the doorway. “I’ll stop!” He puts his hands down and stands still.

“Good,” Soushi replies, sitting back down. “Now what is it this time?”

“So uh.” Sora shuffles his feet, looking down. “You know that one time we watched that horror movie, the one that was Nozomu’s fault—” He looks up at Soushi, who’s opened his book again. “—Hey!”

“Let me guess, you think Mori is mad at you and despite being an idiot you’re at least aware enough to realize it’s your fault.” Soushi doesn’t even look up, voice even and bored.

“Yeah! Wait, what? He’s mad at me?” Sora cocks his head. “I was thinking more like Mori’s been acting off since then, I didn’t think he was mad—”

The sound of Soushi’s book abruptly snapping shut stops him, and the look he has on his face as he finally turns and faces Sora, for real this time, makes him swallow whatever words were coming next. “You’re kidding.”

“Um,” Sora swallows thickly. “I-is Mori… mad at me?”

Soushi brings a hand to his chin and looks at Sora for a long, long time. Whatever he’s pondering, Sora can’t make anything out—having a scary face will do that, and briefly, Sora thinks Soushi is awfully lucky to have been born that big and scary. He also tries to not think about why his feet are stuck to the ground where they are.

Eventually Soushi breaks their eye contact with a sigh, and runs a brisk hand through his hair. “No, he isn’t. I just thought you might’ve felt bad about teasing him like that after the movie.”

“Oh.”

“Well, whether you did think that or not, my answer is the same: he’s not angry at you. You know Mori’s the kind of nice guy who lets things go.” Soushi taps a knuckle against Sora’s forehead, and Sora feels his feet unstick from the ground. “Just, hm. Be nice to him. He really spoils you, you know that? You’re lucky he’s that forgiving.”

Sora turns the thought over in his head, humming as he ponders. Something sticks out to him, though. “Wait, Sou—what about how he’s been acting off?”

Soushi rolls his neck. “Maybe he just needs you to give him a break, I dunno.” He shrugs. “Knowing him, he probably just has a lot of stuff on his mind.”

“Like wh—”

A knock on the door interrupts them then, and Mori’s voice floats through muffled. “Sou? Are you there?” _Speak of the devil._

Soushi opens the door. “Yeah, what is it?” He moves aside to let Mori in.

“Thanks.” As he steps in he sees Sora, and briefly, just _barely_ —small enough to make Sora doubt himself—flinches when he sees him in Soushi’s room. He probably is imagining it, though, because when Mori next speaks he’s his usual calm-as-ever self. “Ah, Sora, you’re here, too? This works out, then; I can tell you both.”

Soushi sits back down, eyeing Mori. “What is it?”

“Ah, well.” Mori takes off his glasses, polishing them with the hem of his shirt. “It’s a bit sudden, but I’ve got an important seminar coming up.” He continues to look down at his glasses, examining the crystal-clear lenses for invisible specks. “I need to be closer to our lab, so I’ll have to be out of the dorms and closer to campus for about a week.”

“Huh?” The sound falls out of Sora’s mouth before his mind processes the news, and he sees Mori’s eyes turn to face his direction. The glasses are still hanging in his hands, seemingly forgotten. “Wait, what?”

Mori blinks, and smiles uneasily at Sora’s direction. “Sorry, Sora; it is a bit sudden.” He puts on the glasses again and adjusts them on his nose. “It’s a pretty important seminar with a distinguished professor, so I do need to focus on this.”

“But,” Sora counters, words bubbling up before his mind can think. “What about—” _Me_ , his mind briefly flashes. “—SOARA?” he manages to get out.

“It should be fine,” Soushi speaks up between them. “We’re not mid-promotion right now, and our schedule is fairly light—we don’t have any major appearances for a while, and Nozomu and Ren can handle the radio stuff pretty well on their own.”

“Sou—”

Soushi shakes his head at Sora, and turns back to Mori. “When are you leaving?”

“The day after tomorrow.”

“And it’s for a week, so you’ll be back the following…” he pulls out his phone and flicks through his screen. “...Thursday?”

Mori flips through his planner, nodding at Soushi above the pages. “Yep. If things go smoothly, I might even be back a day early.”

Soushi finishes tapping at his screen and looks up. “Alright. I’m sure you’ve already let the company staff know by now—” Mori nods at him, “—and will you be letting Nozomu and Ren know?”

“I was going to let them know today, too.”

“Okay then, sounds like you’ve got everything together.”

Mori nods and sighs in relief. “Thanks, Sou. You took this pretty well.”

Soushi laughs, short and low. “Of course, I trust you to know how to handle yourself.” He jerks a thumb over at Sora. “More than this one here, anyway.”

The jab from Soushi doesn’t even register. “Mori…” Sora trails off, not quite sure what he wanted to say. But he wants to say something.

Mori smiles at him, a little sadly. “Sorry, Sora. But I’m sure you’ll be fine, and it’s only for a week—cheer up, okay? I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Honestly, Sora. Mori isn’t going off forever, and it’s for school; you’d do well to learn from him. You shouldn’t neglect your studies either, okay? The agency understands that we’re still students and all.”

Sora slumps onto Soushi’s bed. “And you’d totally tell my mom if I slacked off, wouldn’t you.”

Soushi taps a few times at his phone and turns the screen to Sora. “She made me promise that very night.” On his screen is a text from his mom, asking “good, responsible Soushi-kun, please make sure Sora studies!”

“Ahhh! _Mom!!_ ” He fully flops on top of Soushi’s bed, burying his face in his pillow.

“Well,” comes Mori’s voice, cutting Sora’s wallowing short. “Now that I’ve let you know, I’m going to go and find the others and start getting ready.” He smiles, and this time, Sora can _feel_ the fragile tension behind it—maybe he didn’t imagine the strain in Mori’s expression before? Huh.

Soushi waves after him as Mori steps out. “Yeah, take care.”

When the door closes again, Sora turns to Soushi. “So… I guess that’s what he was acting weird about.” He breathes out deeply, tension leaving his shoulders. It’s a relief to hear the reason from the person directly, even though it isn’t the best news.

When Soushi doesn’t immediately respond, he feels what little relief he had quickly wilt away in the silence. He sees Soushi’s eyes narrow in thought as he stares after Mori, then looks back at Sora, and back beyond the empty doorway.

“Sou?”

“Hm? Ah, yeah.” Soushi rubs his chin. “There you have it, Sora—looks like there’s no need for you to worry for now.” Soushi taps at his phone again, and then abruptly pockets it and grabs his jacket. “I’m gonna go down to the convenience store real quick, be right back.”

Sora just nods dumbly, blinking after the soon-empty doorway. “Okay.”

   


———

   


Three days later, Sora is running out of ideas.

“Why not just take a break or something?” Nozomu asks, peeking over his shoulder. Sora crumples up his fifteenth or something sheet, throwing a mass over his shoulder that’s more black with scribbles than the white of the paper—it narrowly misses Nozomu, who thankfully is always at the peak of physical health.

“Because!” Sora starts, whirling around. “Because I—“ he stops, eyes searching into space as he realizes he doesn’t actually have a reason. “I don’t know.”

“So we don’t have a new song coming up?”

“Why would you say that?”

“Because,” Nozomu stares, blinking, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You’ve been songwriting without breaks.”

Sora blinks at him in return. “Was I?” He looks down at his desk—the little notes on his pages smile up at him, again, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Oh. Right. I was.”

Nozomu just stares in reply, lollipop sticking out of his mouth like a kid. “So we do have a new song coming up? Is it gonna be a single or part of an album?”

Sora stares at the few scribbled pages left on his desk. “Uh. I dunno yet. Probably a single, but I think the company staff might decide that.” Suddenly, he remembers something and gets up. “Oh! I’ll ask Mori—“

“—he’s gone for the week, remember?”

“Ah…” Sora slumps back down into his chair, sighing. “Right.”

“What did you want Mori for?”

“Well,” Sora scratches his head, crinkling his nose in frustration. “Sometimes I bounce ideas off him. He’s pretty good about giving feedback, you know? And he’s got that classical background, so there are some fancy theory stuff about chord progressions and, uh, structure? And lots of other things he knows a lot better than I do. Not to mention he’s always up for letting me bounce ideas off him.”

“Hmm, I see…” Nozomu rubs his chin in mock thought.

“Do you really?”

“Not at all.”

Sora slumps further down. “Don’t look so proud of it, that pisses me off a little.”

“Well,” Nozomu starts, taking the lollipop out of his mouth with a loud _pop_. “Sounds like you just miss having Mori around.”

“Nozomu?”

“Hm?”

“Who told you that?”

“Now why would you think someone told me that? I, Nanase Nozomu, am plenty capable of being thoughtful and considerate and noticing others—“

“—Ah, I got it. It was Ren, right?”

Nozomu jumps and balks at Sora, like he’d suddenly grown a third eye on his forehead. “How’d you know?”

“Because he’s right behind you and panicking.”

Nozomu wheels around—and sure enough, Ren is there, beet red and looking at the ground. “Oh, hi Ren. Back already?”

Ren fidgets with his sleeves. “Sorry, Sora-senpai… I was just kinda thinking out loud the other day, and I couldn’t help but notice…”

Sora gets up again, placing his hands on his hips. “Look, you guys, I don’t know what gave you the idea, but I don’t miss Mori or anything, okay? More like, I got used to having him around to bounce ideas off of, and it’s just kinda weird having him gone for so long, you know?”

“Sora-senpai?”

“Yeah, Ren?”

“I, uh…” He scratches his cheek. “I think that counts as missing someone.”

“Sora, if you miss him that much, why not just go visit him?” Nozomu mumbles around the bitten remains of his lollipop. “S’not like you don’t know where he is.”

“Huh.”

“Nozomu, don’t just pry like that!”

“Hm? Why not?”

“Well…”

Sora tunes the rest of their conversation out as his brain whirrs with the possibilities. Should he visit Mori? He does know where his usual station exit is, and more or less remembers the professor’s name, he should be able to figure something out. And hey, maybe this is the break he needs to move on with this song—maybe he does need Mori’s input to make it something SOARA.

“Okay.”

Nozomu and Ren pause mid-conversation and both turn. “Sorry?”

Sora picks up his sheets and grabs his pass. “I’m gonna go see Mori, later!”

“Sora-senpai? Already? It’s almost dinnertime, though—“

The rest goes unheard as Sora sprints down, taking two steps at a time. _Maybe this will work!_

* * *

“Excuse me, I’m looking for Professor, uh… Takamatsu’s seminar? I heard it was this week.”

The fourth randomly-selected student he asks shakes her head with a soft “sorry” and walks away, and Sora sighs deeply as he looks around for a next target. Luckily the next one he picks, a small bowlcut guy with glasses, finally gives Sora hope.

“Professor Takamatsu? Hmm, I don’t know about a seminar, but I know he’s in the Business department… which is just over—“ he points to a section of the campus beyond a neat quad of walkways and benches, “—there. See that building that looks like it’s all windows? It’ll be next to a little garden, you might wanna ask there.”

“Thank you!” Sora waves while running, and almost trips in his haste. He hightails it over to the glass building, and soon he sees the doors in sight—

“—Sora?”

Mori’s voice, out of nowhere, brings him screeching to a halt.

“Mori!” Sora practically jumps at him, his pages still in hand. The surprise on Mori’s face is evident— _scared_ , even. _Bet he never expected this! But this is what he gets for leaving me, I mean,_ us _, for a week._

“Arihara-kun?”

A voice he doesn’t know stops him—now that he gets a better look, he’s. _Oh my god, he’s with a girl._

She peers from Mori’s side. “Is he a friend of yours?”

Mori, to all his credit, is really great at maintaining composure. “Ah, yes.” He gestures in Sora’s direction. “This is Oohara Sora, a close friend of mine.”

“Ah! The one you’re in a band with!” Yet _another_ girl appears, trailing just behind them with a folder clutched to her chest. “Your band, um, SORA, right?”

“It’s SOARA,” Sora replies, automatic and unconscious. _Who are you_ , he wants to blurt instead.

Mori laughs that nice polite laugh of his, placing himself between the girls and Sora. “Yes, we’re bandmates.” He turns to Sora, gesturing to the girls. “Sora, these are my seminar classmates: to the left is Fukuhara-san, and to the right is Ookubo-san.”

“Hello, nice to meet you,” Sora says, ducking his head in a quick, slight greeting.

“Hello,” the girls chorus back, heads bobbing in line. The one on the right—Ookubo-san—turns to Mori, waving. “Well, Arihara-kun, we’ll see you tomorrow!”

Mori waves in turn, still wearing the polite smile. “See you tomorrow!”

As they leave, Sora squints at Mori. “Huh.”

“...Sora?” Mori’s voice takes on a nervous edge as he turns to face him. “Why are you looking at me like that?” He stops, suddenly remembering. “Actually, what are you doing here?”

Sora waves the previously-forgotten sheets in the air between them. “Wanted to visit you. Wanted to get your thoughts on some song ideas, actually.”

Mori’s eyes shine a little at the sheets—or maybe it’s the sunset in his eyes, Sora isn’t sure. “New songs? Really? I didn’t know you were working on new music!”

“Well, I wasn’t. But I thought I might as well start, since I have nothing to do.” Sora shakes his head. “Anyways, I came to just visit you, but wow, Mori.” He whistles, low and long. “You’re popular as ever.”

“Sora, please.” Mori laughs that nervous laugh of his.

“Ah! I got it.” Sora snaps his fingers in the air, then points at Mori. “I bet you tell all the girls you’re in a band, that’s how you’re so popular here!”

“... _What?_ ”

“Heh heh, _admit it_ , Morihito-kun!” Sora jabs a finger at Mori’s face. “That’s why they know!”

Mori pushes Sora’s finger out of his face. “Sora, no, I don’t just go around telling people— _especially_ not for that kind of purpose. They just happened to know—”

“—’happened to know’? Know from you, right?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“—ahah! There it is! You admit it!” Sora waves the sheets in the air. “Wait… is that why you’re away for a _whole week_ at this seminar thing? Are you actually just _hanging out with girls—_ ”

“— _Sora!_ ” Mori’s sudden yell stops Sora in his tracks.

Mori is always gentle, and kind, and polite, and easygoing—everything Sora isn’t. He also knows, from previous experience, that he’s forgiving, and patient, and bears with a lot on his own. So he especially knows that when Mori gets mad, there’s a very good reason for it and whatever the cause is, it’s gone too far.

He draws his arm back down. “Mori, um. Sorry, I went too far.”

Mori flinches, suddenly aware of his own anger—he deflates, too, as if frightened by his own outburst. “No, um. It’s okay. I shouldn’t have yelled like that.”

“Mori, no, haven’t we been over this? It’s okay to yell, and let’s face it, I honestly deserved it this time.”

“It’s fine,” Mori shakes his head and takes off his glasses, rubbing at the lenses. “Sorry, but... Sora, could you go home for tonight? I’ve got a lot of stuff to prepare for tomorrow.”

“Mori—”

“— _please._ ”

Sora knows from the tone in Mori’s voice that this is a losing battle. “Okay,” He mutters, hesitantly shuffling off. He pauses to slink a look back over his shoulder. “Um, text me, okay?”

Mori puts his glasses back on and nods back at him. “Yeah.”

   


———

   


That’s the last he hears from Mori for another week. On an individual level, anyway.

He later sends them all a message in their group chat, the day before he was supposed to be back:

——

 _Sorry, guys—the seminar is delving into some field work, and I need to be there to keep tabs on things. I might be away for a bit longer, but keep me updated! I can always make time for SOARA._  
_Read by 5_  
_15:21_  
__

__

——

‘ _I can always make time for SOARA._ ’ Sora reads, over and over. No one’s bothered to add a reply after that in the group chat.

Mori hasn’t bothered to reply to him, either—the last text in their thread is Sora, from the night he got back after the unpleasant surprise:

——

 _Mori? Sorry about earlier… hope you come back soon? (´・ω・`)_  
_Read_  
_21:42_

——

“Sora?”

“Waah—ow!” The sudden voice makes Sora drop his phone on his face—he sits up on the sofa while rubbing his nose, only to see Soushi looking at him from above. “Sou?”

“What are you doing out here? It’s midnight.”

“Uh.” He puts his phone away, a little too quickly to be natural—so _naturally_ , Soushi catches it.

“Let me guess. Mori?”

Sora nods reluctantly. “Yeah…” He scoots over as Soushi joins him on the couch. “Sou, um. I might’ve messed up.”

“Yeah, probably.”

“Hey!” Sora sits up, slapping the couch. “At least deny it a little…!” He slumps down again, sinking deeper into a pile of cushions as he whines. “Ah, if it were Mori, he’d at least say something nice and comforting…” He grabs a nearby cushion, burying his face into it.

“Well, I’m not Mori,” Soushi counters, plucking the cushion away from Sora’s grasp. “But I can at least hear you out. So? What happened this time?”

“So uh. I kinda pissed him off last week.”

Soushi stays silent, giving him a look—the _‘what’d you do now?’_ goes unsaid but understood, loud and clear.

Sora clutches another nearby cushion—it’s green, and relatively cleaner than the others. “I went to visit Mori at his university, and uh.” He pauses, checking for any reaction from Soushi: he just lightly nods at him to go on. “I said some stupid things and took a joke too far, I guess? Though hmm, I guess I can’t really call it a joke because it wasn’t that funny in the first place, now that I think about it, and rather than a joke I was making a big deal out of something that’s probably nothing because Mori’s been gone for so long and he was _spending time with girls_ and yeah I might’ve said Mori was doing stupid stuff that he and I both know that I know he’d never do and even so I still pushed too far because I was mad he was spending so much time on this stupid seminar thing and _gone for a whole week_ and when I tried to write songs or something to pass the time I couldn’t really figure out a good path and usually Mori’s there for me to bounce ideas off of but he wasn’t this time and—”

“—Sora.” Soushi raises a hand. “ _Stop_.”

“Sou—”

“—Stop.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Just. Hold it for a sec.” He shakes his head and rests his forehead in a hand. “That was a _lot_. To be honest, I didn’t catch half of that.”

“Sou!” Sora swings the cushion at his shoulder. “You said you’d listen!”

Soushi catches it before it can land a hit, and yanks this cushion away from him, too. “That was me assuming you’d speak like a normal reasonable person.” He shoves it to the side, having it join ranks with the previously confiscated one. “Though, I guess that was my first mistake.”

“Soushi- _kun_ , I’m being so serious here... yet. Yet!” He gestures wildly with his arms, voice rising with every movement. “I—”

He doesn’t get to finish, as Soushi brings back one of the cushions to shove into Sora’s face. “Quiet down, Sora—in case you forgot, it’s past midnight. And you know Ren’s a light sleeper.” Sora nods from behind the cushion in his face, and Soushi mercifully lets the cushion down. Sora peeks from behind it, clutching at it.

“I dunno, Sou… I guess I just miss him.”

Soushi shakes his head. “I know you do. That’s why you went and said stupid jealous shit like that, right?” He scrolls through some messages on his phone. “Mori filled me in already, and I think I’ve got the gist of it.”

“What!” Soushi raises a finger to his mouth while narrowing his eyes, and Sora immediately clamps his mouth. He tries again, whispering. “You mean, you already _knew_?”

“More or less. But I wanted to hear your side of the story, too.” He puts the phone away. “From what I hear, Sora, you need to put some thought into this, and the _both_ of you need to face each other and talk it out. I can’t solve this problem for you guys, and I’m certainly not going to play messenger between you two.”

Sora fidgets and twists the cushion in his hands. “What if he won’t talk to me?” The empty group chat and his own inactive conversation thread with Mori flash through his mind.

“Make him. I dunno, you somehow got him to open up during high school that one time, on the—”

“—The roof!” Sora snaps his fingers, jumping up. “That’s it! We should have a rooftop confrontation again!”

“Uh, Sora, _‘confrontation’_ is a little—”

“—Sou,” Sora suddenly clasps his hands, staring right into his face. “You _have_ to help me with this.”

“Let me guess. You need me to hide and make sure things don’t get violent and break up any fights?”

“How’d you know?”

“Lucky guess,” Soushi deadpans at him.

“—Please don’t say no, Sou, I _need_ you to be there!” Sora clutches Soushi’s hands tighter, hoping his desperation comes through. “I, uh, feel like I’ll speak more comfortably by remembering you’re there!”

Soushi sighs and rolls his neck and shoulders. “You’re buying the next time we go for ramen.”

“Okay! That I can do!”

“And even though he’ll see through this setup in a heartbeat, I’m not butting in unless _strictly necessary_ ; you two need to figure this shit out yourselves.”

“Aye aye, sir!”

“And Sora?”

“Yeah?”

Soushi throws a cushion into his face. “Think about _why_ you’re jealous.” The soft couch springs creak as he gets up, and Sora watches as he yawns and shuffles away to his room.

Why _he’s_ jealous? Sora pauses in thought—he stares down at the cushion still in his hands, asking. _Did I ever mention jealousy?_

   


———

   


“Mo-ri-hi-to—ku———n!”

“Sora? What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

“Now why would you think something’s wrong?”

“You called seven times in the past thirty minutes.”

“Look, Mori, that’s because you wouldn’t pick up! And this is important.”

Mori sighs on the other end. “Okay, what is it? I’m listening.”

“I need you to meet me at the dorms! Something came up.”

“The dorms…? I’m a little far so it might be a while to get there—can you just tell me now?”

“No!” Sora bursts, a little too quickly; with a small _ahem_ he resettles himself. “No, um, I just _really_ need you to meet me at the dorms. Once you’re here, head straight for the roof, okay?” He clenches his fist and nods, even though Mori clearly can’t see him. “That’s all, _I’llseeyousoon!!_ ” He hangs up quickly before Mori can say anything back to him.

* * *

“Sora? I’m here.”

Mori’s voice floats behind him, and Sora steels himself to turn around and face Mori. “So. uh.” He looks down, balling his fists. “Thanks for coming.”

“No problem,” he replies—his voice is politely even, though his expression is clearly asking why he’s been called here.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re here, and, um.” Mori inclines his head, as if encouraging him to go on. “I can explain.” Mori just crosses, then uncrosses his arms, silent the whole time. Sora swallows thickly. “I… I’m sorry.”

“For?”

“For uh, that time when I barged into your university. And I said stupid stuff out loud.”

Mori just sighs, looking down and shaking his head. “It’s fine. I’m sorry, too, for yelling at you.”

Sora shakes his head. “No, Mori! It’s okay, you shouldn’t have to apologize! I was the one at fault there.”

Mori puts on a sort of _weird_ smile, and Sora can’t help but notice how much he’s starting to dislike it. “No, really. It’s okay, everything’s fine, Sora.” He tilts his head. “Was that it?”

“Um.” _Is this it?_ Sora furrows his brows. Is this all he had to say?

Mori quickly glances at his watch. “If it is, I hope you don’t mind if I get going; I have to head back to the la—”

“—No!” Sora stretches his arm out as Mori turns to the door—his hand hangs in the space between them. “I, uh. There’s more!” He racks his brain: what did Sou say? Wait, no, what does _he_ have to say? “I, uh. Let’s talk, Mori! Sou said that we need to talk this out.”

Mori breathes deeply and lets go of the door handle. “Is Sou why we’re here?”

“Kinda, well…” He stops, shaking his head. “No! That’s not what I meant.”

“Huh.” A thought suddenly strikes Mori, and he looks around. “Is anyone else here?” He says it out loud, like he’s calling to the air and not just Sora.

“No!” Sora replies, a little too quickly. “No one’s here, w-why would you think that?” He desperately hopes Mori doesn’t notice he’s suddenly started sweating bullets.

Mori gives him a _look_. “This whole setup is very familiar, Sora.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Soushi steps out from his hiding place, stopping just between them. “Told you.”

“Sou! Why!” Sora wheels at him, trying to contain his panic.

“Honestly?” Soushi rolls his neck and stretches. “Because I shouldn’t be here in the first place.” He looks at Mori. “Sorry, but—” he jabs a thumb at Sora. “—this one insisted. You know how he is.”

Mori half-sighs, half-smiles. “I know.”

Soushi sighs back. “You sure do, Mori.”

Mori leans back against the wall. “Well, that’s certainly up for debate.” He’s still smiling, but it takes a bitter edge to it as he looks down and away from Sora.

“Anyways. I’m out of here, so have at it. I’m locking the door, by the way.”

“What?!” Sora and Mori _both_ whip their heads to him as he pauses in the doorway.

“Heh, just kidding. But, do know that no one will bother you two for the—” He pauses, glancing at his phone. “—next hour, so I expect you two to figure this shit out already.” With that, the door shuts behind him with a heavy _thud_ and Sora is left unexpectedly alone with Mori.

“Ah.” Sora stares at the door, sweat on his forehead cooling as it trickles down.

Mori looks at the door. “There he goes.” Mori stays silent after that, and after a solid two seconds of nothing Sora starts to fantasize about throwing himself off the roof and flying off into the sky. Maybe if he runs fast, and flaps his arms, he can make it to that open window in the next building?

No. He slaps his cheeks, bringing his imaginary self back down. This isn’t the time. “Hey—”

“—I should get going.”

“Huh?”

“Everything is okay, Sora.” Out comes that smile again, and Sora _really_ wants to wipe it off Mori’s face. “I’ll see you—”

“—No,” Sora puts his foot down, clenching his fists. “Things aren’t fine, Mori.”

Mori stops, one hand on the door handle. “And how’s that?”

Sora scratches his head, resisting the urge to look around while internally scrambling for an idea. He probably shouldn’t have blurted out whatever, but—but Mori can’t leave like this. “Aren’t things kinda weird? Like, between us?” He gestures between them. “I dunno, Mori. There’s something weird going on, and I don’t like it.”

Mori doesn’t turn to face him, hand still on the door and shoulders tensing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Sora. Everything’s the same as usual.”

Sora’s ears don’t miss the slight shake in Mori’s voice. “No, no it isn’t. And Mori, you know it too—stop running away from me!”

Mori wheels, and the frustrated look he has is like a slap to Sora’s face. “I’m not. I’m just busy lately, I have legitimate reasons—”

“—You can at least answer a text, or call occasionally!” Sora whips out his phone, pointing the screen with the abandoned chat thread at Mori. “And why are you so busy with this thing, to the point you can’t even be with me—I mean, us? And you’re not just leaving SOARA for some _school stuff_ , I, I think you’re hiding from me!” He lowers his arm, looking down at the ground and toeing at a crack in the concrete. “It feels like you’re slipping farther and farther away, I hate it.”

“Sora…”

“Mori, can’t you just tell me what’s wrong?” He’s not stopping, not now. “I can handle it, okay? I can handle you being honest with me, so just! Go ahead! Let it out! Remember when we fought, in our last year of high school? Even though I couldn’t exactly help, I was still glad to hear what you had to say!” He walks up to Mori, clutching his shoulders so he can’t escape. “I miss you, Mori. And whatever you have to say, I’ll accept it! I’m not the smartest, but I can at least do that much!”

Mori shakes his head. “No.”

Sora looks up. “What?”

“No, you can’t understand this.” He pointedly looks away. “This… this is one thing you just couldn’t.”

Sora pushes. “How do you know that? You haven’t even told me.”

“Just... trust me. I know. And it’s fine, I can deal with this by myself.”

“Mori!” Sora shakes him again. “How many times have we been through this? Tell!” He shakes Mori, punctuating each word with another shake. “Me!”

“ _No!_ ” Mori breaks away, and the wounded, cornered look in his eyes sends a stab through Sora. He’s never seen him like this—not Mori, not _his_ Mori. “I can’t.”

Anger bubbles through Sora at this. “Try me!”

“I.” He clutches his forehead. “You don’t understand. I—I _like_ you.” His voice is strained, ending in a whisper barely above a breath.

“Huh?” Sora blinks, feeling himself deflate. If that’s all it was, that would be anticlimactic as _hell_. “I mean, yeah, and I like you too. We’re friends, Mori, and that’s why I’m yelling at you like this right now.”

Mori shakes his head. “No, that’s not what I mean.”

 _Huh?_ “Then what do you mean, Mori? I don’t get it, what does you liking me have anything to do with—”

He doesn’t get to finish because there are hands on his shoulders pulling him in, and lips meeting his own to block any more words Sora might’ve had. It takes a painfully long second—or, for all he knows, a minute, or an hour, _the world seemed to stop for a while_ —for Sora’s brain to catch up and realize it’s _Mori_ , oh my god _Mori_ is _kissing_ him.

He freezes up. His feet stick to the ground and his arms fix themselves mid-air, and he remains like that even as Mori breaks away, even as Mori’s hand lightly grazes at Sora’s cheek for barely half a pulse. He’s still frozen as Mori then, remembering where they are, hastily steps back from him.

“That,” Mori breathes, “is what I mean.”

He’s still frozen as Mori turns away all too quickly, hastily reaching for the door handle to escape. It's not fast enough to hide the pained look on Mori's face, though, and as Sora catches it he feels a stab through his chest—he's never seen Mori look like that. And as Mori's retreating steps beat quickly down the dark stairway, echoes of his touch linger on Sora: electricity crawls across his lips where they met, tingling along the exact trail his fingers left against his cheek, teasing him with the constant replay of motion. The door swings shut behind him with a final _thud_ , and Sora feels the impact echo through where his feet seem to have taken root into the ground.

   


———

   


“Earth to Sora, Earth to Sora—anybody home?”

“Nozomu?”

“Yeah, Soushi-senpai?”

“Don’t put your feet on the table.”

“Oh! Right, right.”

The conversations around Sora vaguely flit through his head, in one ear and out the other. Why are they here, he wonders. Where’s—

“Um, Soushi-senpai, have you heard from Mori-senpai?”

“Don’t worry, he texted me earlier saying he’ll make it in time for the shoot.”

At Mori's name he jumps, sending his chair clattering behind him as his heart leaps into his throat. He didn't think it was possible to choke on air, but he does—and he chokes hard, thumping his own chest in an effort to calm himself. _This is stupid, just_ stupid, _why this?_

He hears a chair scraping against the ground and heavy footsteps, and soon equally heavy hands thump against his back. Soushi’s voice floats somewhere above him. "Sora, what the hell."

Sora finally calms down, and he looks up at a confused Soushi and Ren—Nozomu is, well, Nozomu, and not worried at all. "I'm," he wheezes out, "okay."

"Okay, my ass. Hang on, I'll get you some water." He glances at his phone as he steps out. "I should be back soon, stay here, okay?" He gives an apologetic glance at Ren. "Sorry to leave you with these idiots."

Ren shakes his head, smiling. "Don't worry!" He waves him off. "We'll be right here, waiting."

***

"I'm bored." Sora balances a pencil on his lips—his notebook sits open and abandoned, marked with more doodles than the musical notation that came first. "Ren, do something."

Ren flips through his little notebook ( _“full of tips from our Tsukino Pro senpai!”, he says, bless his heart_ ) for the seventh time in ten minutes, frowning as he does. "Hmm, Soushi-senpai _is_ taking a while. I wonder if something happened?"

Nozomu just shrugs. "Maybe he went to the bathroom."

"Ahh!!" He can't do this. He's bored, and also, Soushi and Mori both aren't here, and also, Ren's constant nervous page-flipping is making him nervous, and _also!_ Nozomu's completely oblivious calm is annoying—he can’t function like this. He needs them all here, _now_. Sora throws his hands up. "I'm gonna go look for him!" He jumps up and runs out, slamming the door to a protesting Ren yelling "Sora-senpai, wait!" after him.

***

It turns out, it doesn’t take much wandering around for Sora to find them.

"—Sora is one thing, but you need to get it together, too, Mori."

Sudden voices bring Sora to a skidding halt, and he automatically presses himself to the nearest wall.

"Sou..."

He jumps at the familiar voice, one he hasn't heard in—wait, how long _has_ it been? Days? Weeks? Too long, at any rate. He whips his head around, tracing the sound. It's coming from just around the corner, and he slowly inches himself to the edge of the corridor to hear better.

He hears Soushi sigh. "Honestly, this shouldn't have even gone on for this long. What happened? I thought I left you guys to settle this, not make it worse."

Mori sighs, too—it's a deep, hopeless sigh, and Sora has never heard Mori sound so tired. "I messed up. It's not Sora's fault."

He can practically hear Soushi roll his eyes, even though he can't see either of them. "Mori, look. Knowing both of you? It's not all your fault. I'm sure Sora played his part in this; he probably overreacted to something silly and pushed too hard." He pauses, and when Mori doesn't reply, he laughs: it's a short, sharp exhale more like a sigh. "See? Knew it."

"I can't blame him, though—It’s not like I’ve been very trustworthy these past few weeks. I hid myself from everyone, and especially from Sora."

"And then when he pushed, you snapped."

"Yeah."

"Well, he's not exactly a shining example of tact himself. I wouldn’t blame you." He shuffles. "So? What happened after that?"

It’s obviously not directed at him, but Sora flinches as the memories come rushing back—he feels the heat rising in his cheeks and spreading to the tips of his ears. Oh my god, did that really happen, did he dream it up—

"—Mori? You okay?"

"N-no," Mori stutters. "I, uh. I'm…" He pauses, and Sora can just imagine Mori taking his glasses off to polish them. "I’m okay. Anyways, not much happened after that—I've told you everything."

"Okay. Just tell me one thing, then: how long were you planning on keeping it a secret?"

"Forever, if I had to." The reply comes out quickly, voice steady and practiced, as if the matter had been settled ages ago.

_What?_

Soushi taps his feet. "Forever? You mean, if Sora hadn't pushed, you would never have told him?"

"More or less."

"Hm. It explains why you let Sora say you were scared that one movie night—now I know what you were covering for." There's a small cluster of cracks as Soushi rolls his neck. "But anyways, let's return to the topic at hand: why?"

There’s a pause, and a rustle of fabric. "Sou, do you really have to ask?"

"I have a pretty good guess. But," he pauses, his voice rising just a little. "Tell me anyways."

"Sou..." Mori sighs. He's sighing a lot lately—it’s grating. Sora doesn’t like it. "He obviously wouldn’t feel the same, and I know that having something like this in the band would only break us apart. I’d much rather have SOARA stay together than act on my selfish wants—"

"—That's stupid!"

Sora can't stay put any longer. He barges out of his hiding place, confronting a clearly shocked Mori. Soushi just sighs and backs up.

"Mori, what the hell?!" Sora clenches his fists, feeling nails dig into his palms.

"Sora?!"

"Ah...'' Soushi crosses his arms, leaning back against a wall as he sighs. "Wow. You were there. Never would've guessed."

His deadpan is lost on Sora as they face each other. “Mori, what do you mean you never would’ve told me?”

“Sora—” Mori breaks off, rubbing his eyes. “I knew what I was doing. I thought it over a lot, and decided this was for the best—”

“—Why would you decide that on your own?” Sora yanks Mori’s hand away from his face, forcing Mori to face him. “Haven’t we gone through this already? Stop bottling things up on your own! I—”

“—Ahem!” A new voice interrupts them—Sora, Mori, and even Soushi all wheel to the new voice, an unexpected presence joining their scene at the other end of the hallway.

“Uh…”

Ryota rolls his eyes as he steps forward. “Oh good, I can finally stop clearing my throat like an idiot. It took you all long enough to notice.”

Soushi nods at him. “Sorry about that. As you can see—” he gestures to Sora and Mori; it’s then Sora realizes he’s still clutching Mori’s wrist, and he hastily yanks his hand away. “—Our idiots got a little carried away.”

Ryota gives Sora and Mori a once-over; as his sharp, lidded eyes glance them down, Sora wonders how it’s possible to feel like something cold and sharp is scraping him down from head to toe. He tries not to move—he can’t get cut by eyesight alone, his brain logically tells him, but nonetheless his instincts tell him not to move, for his own safety.

He breaks off with one last withering look and turns to Soushi, laying a delicate hand on his shoulder. “You poor thing.”

Soushi just nods, shrugging.

Ryota wheels back to Sora and Mori. “Anyways. I was sent here to look for you guys; Kou and the others are also walking around looking for you.” He tilts his head towards the hallway he came from. “You should probably head back.”

Soushi laughs sharply, shaking his head. “Right. Of course.” He turns to Sora and Mori. “You heard him, we’ll have to finish this later.”

“Sou—”

“—Get going. _Now_. Both of you.”

The force behind the look Soushi gives both of them somehow unfreezes his feet, and Sora helplessly slinks back down the hallway to their waiting room. As he shuffles along, awkwardly silent next to an equally awkwardly silent Mori, he can hear Ryota’s voice floating behind them.

“...Tell me this hasn’t gone on for that long.”

“Hah. ‘Fraid I can’t.”

“You’re _kidding_ me. And I thought _our_ Mamoru was dense.”

   


———

   


“Okay, Sora. Honestly, this is getting old.”

Mori stands before him, back against the rooftop access door.

“Yeah? Well, same for me,” Sora counters, strong and firm. Or at least he’d like to think—he’s trying to contain his shivers from the cold, and he wishes desperately he’d thought to bring a jacket to hide under.

Mori shakes his head, taking his phone out of his pocket. “Well, I couldn’t exactly just leave you alone after—” He looks at the screen, then points it at Sora. “—all that.”

***

  


_(After the photoshoot Morihito more or less rushes out at record speed, citing school as an ever-convenient excuse. He turns his phone off once he’s back home, and the next morning when he (guiltily remembering his university obligations) turns it back on his call history is flooded with missed calls from the same number. There are also fifteen voicemails for him from the past hour alone, all from Sora, all more or less the same ten to fifteen seconds of his voice in variations of the same theme._

_“Mori? This is Sora. I figured you’d probably avoid picking up your phone, so I then figured I’d just spam your voicemail with this. You have to get this eventually. Anyways! I’m going to be on the rooftop from now until basically forever, until you come to meet me. Seeya!”_

_“Mori? This is Sora. You’re ignoring my calls, but I don’t care, I’ll just keep clogging your voicemail inbox so all you hear is my voice. Is it reaching you? It better. I’m gonna be waiting on the rooftop again, and this time, I’m not leaving until you come here.”_

_“Mori? This is Sora. Pick up your stupid phone already, I know you have it on you. Ah, but anyways, I can still leave a message. Come to the rooftop already! It’s kinda windy up here and I didn’t bring a jacket. And I’m not going down for one.”_

_“Mori? This is Sora. Okay, seriously, it’s getting a little—” There’s a loud, wet sneeze, and a series of sniffles. “—cold up here. Anyways! I know you’re listening, so stop being stubborn and come meet me already!”_

_“Moriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii… You know who I am by now, come meet me up on the rooooooooof… Mo-ri-hi-to-kuuuun, it’s here, your favorite place! With me, your favorite person—” His voice breaks off suddenly. “—Ah, though I guess maybe I’m not…” There’s a small sniffle, and when his voice returns he hears a little crack underneath the outward boisterousness. “A-anyways! Come to the roof!”)_

  


***

“How’s your throat?”

Sora crosses his arms. “It’s fine, my vocal chords aren’t that weak.”

“No, I mean, um.” Mori shakes his head. “I hope you haven’t caught a cold, or anything.”

“Oh.” Sora drops his pose. “Uh. I’m okay.”

“Sou?” Mori calls out. “It’s okay, I’m here now, you can go get Sora a jacket.”

“He’s not here,” Sora cuts in, steeling himself. At that, Mori raises an eyebrow.

“Really?” He turns again. “Ren? Nozomu? Are either of you here?”

“Mori!” When Mori finally stops looking around and Sora has his attention again, he continues. “No one else is here but us.” Mori raises his eyebrows again. “Really! I swear.”

“I don’t know, Sora. Considering your track record with rooftop meetings—”

“Look, Mori, I _promise_ it’s just us this time. Third time’s the charm, right? And, uh,” Sora scratches his nose. “I wanted to show you I’m pretty serious this time. So it’s just me and you—” he spreads his arms out, gesturing to the flat expanse of rooftop concrete around them. “—up here.” He lets his arms drop. “No more hiding.”

Mori sighs and crosses his arms. “Okay. Now, what did you fill my inbox to capacity for?”

“To get you here, of course.” At that, Mori frowns. “What? How else was I supposed to get you to come?”

Mori sighs. “Fine. I suppose I did need some convincing to come.” He unfolds his arms, stuffing them in his coat pockets. “Well? What is it, then? What do you need to tell me?”

“First of all, Morihito- _kun_ , tell me honestly.” Sora balls his fists at his side—he can’t back down now. “Do you! Uh. Do you. L-like me! Me, Oohara Sora!”

“Sora…” Mori shakes his head and groans, looking down. It doesn’t hide the fact that he’s flustered, though, Sora can clearly see the pink. “Is this really why we’re here?” He turns, hand reaching for the handle.

“Mori! Don’t leave yet, we’re not done.” Mori’s hand stops, and he turns back to face Sora again. “I want to hear it from you, loud and clear—I want to hear what you honestly feel.”

Mori pauses, turning a thought or several over in his mind. Eventually, he gives in. “Okay. Yes, Sora. I like you.” He looks down again, hands digging deeper into his pockets. “A lot.”

“Okay. Thank you, Mori.”

“Huh?”

“Next thing!”

“Wait, Sora—”

“—You’ll see, let me finish first. Now, Morihito- _kun_ , why did you choose to hide it?”

“Huh?!” Mori flinches at the direct blow; his slight flush turns to a deeper pink as his voice wavers. “I, I mean…!” He runs a hand through his hair. “Are you really going to make me say it?”

Sora nods at him to go on, chin set and stubborn. Mori’s shoulders slump, but nonetheless he obeys.

“I knew you clearly didn’t, and wouldn’t, feel the same way. And me just acting on my feelings would obviously make it awkward for everyone to stay together.” He lets his arm drop to his side, hanging limply. “And, I. I guess I could’ve just taken myself out, but…” He looks down at the ground, to where their dorms sit beneath their feet. “I didn’t want to give up being a part of SOARA. No matter how selfish that thought was.” He suddenly laughs, but it’s sad and broken. “...I guessed I made a fine mess of it, though, despite all my plans.”

“...Oh.”

Mori nods. “Yeah.”

It hurts. But he can’t stop here, for both of them. “Then,” Sora continues; it comes out a husky whisper. “Next thing.”

“There’s more?”

“Next thing,” Sora repeats, with emphasis. “Why, _Mori_ —” he steps forward, footsteps accenting the notes of Mori’s name, “—did you assume I wouldn’t feel the same way?”

The question clearly catches Mori by surprise—he flinches, again, and as he opens his mouth to reply words seem to fail him and he just stands there, mouth agape and soundless. He resorts to vague gestures, arms and hands moving, but it’s all in stilted confusion and fail to convey anything but. Eventually his voice returns. “I. I mean.” He brings a hand to his forehead, then brings it back down, then stops, not knowing what to do. “I didn’t think it was an assumption, I. I just _knew_ , I suppose. I just took it as fact that you didn’t feel the same; after all, you never showed any signs otherwise.”

Sora crosses his arms and nods. “...That’s a fair point,” he concedes.

“See? That’s what I mea—”

“—Well!” Sora cuts in. “That’s still working on assumptions, and all assuming I would never find out, because Mori, you’re a blockhead! An idiot! A jerk!” He swings his fists in the air with each insult for emphasis. “And anyways, I did find out, and also! Maybe I do like you, too! So _there_!” He’s yelling at the top of his lungs now, but _whatever!_ “So much for all your stupid calculations and assumptions!”

Stunned silence stretches between them as Mori stares at Sora in open-faced shock, and Sora in turn feels himself losing steam as the awkward silence fills the air between them. It grates on Sora until finally he resorts to slowly sinking down into a crouch, burying his face deeper into his hands all the while. “Oh my god, that was embarrassing. This went _way_ better in my head.” He peeks up at a still-stunned Mori through his fingers. “Say something, Mori, please.”

“I…” Mori blinks, and he lifts a shaky hand to remove his glasses to polish them. He puts them back on. “I’m afraid I might’ve misheard something. Could you repeat—”

“—I said!” Sora whips up again. “I! L-like… you. M-maybe. Probably.” His shout fizzles out into a splutter and a whisper— _so much for playing it cool, self, wow, way to go._

Mori sighs, for probably the billionth time since this whole fiasco. “Sora, it’s okay, you don’t have to make stuff up just to make me feel better.” He gives him that nice smile again, and this time, Sora really does stomp up to Mori, yanking him by the collar so they’re face-to-face. _That_ finally wipes the smile off his face.

“No! Mori, look, I’ll be honest: I’m not smart.” Mori blinks at him, and Sora can see the hesitation on whether to reply or not in his eyes. “Don’t respond to that. Not yet. Anyways, yeah, you probably assumed I’d never feel the same or something because I was just doing my usual stuff, not really thinking, you know? But,” He lets him go—his arms are starting to hurt and it’s too awkward for him to keep staring into Mori’s eyes when they look like _that_. “You then started avoiding me, and then you kept doing _normal people_ things like going to university, and talking to girls, and having a life outside SOARA, and you know what?.” He fidgets with the hem of his shirt, trying not to shiver as drafts of cold air blow through it. “I missed you, you know—I missed you a _lot_. You were going so far away and somehow before I even knew it I’d already gotten used to having you around all the time, and then you were gone, and then I got jealous of the people you were spending time with, more than me, even though I’d never met these people, and?” He kicks a pebble. “I dunno, it just. I’m not trying to say you can’t go do what you want to do, because you should! You’re ridiculously high-spec and all. But um. It just felt miserable not having you around, you know? You were cutting yourself off from me, from the rest of us, and that… I hated that.” He laughs nervously, scratching his head. “And I couldn’t even write songs, so, um. I’m pretty helpless without you, you know? And I don’t know much about liking or lo- uh, stuff like that, but.” He forces himself to look up. “I do know I need you with me.”

Mori continues gaping, and Sora half-wonders in the back of his mind if people’s faces can get stuck like that, especially in the cold air. He considers testing the theory with his own face.

Instead, he shakes the thought away and reaches to take one of Mori’s hands. It’s surprisingly warm, but then again, Mori had the good sense to come wearing a coat in this weather. “I guess what I’m saying is, um. Like our first fight, I’m glad I could know what you were feeling. I don’t exactly have a clear answer or a plan or anything, but I’m glad you’re not hiding things from me, you know? Mori, more than anything, I want us to never hide anything from each other. And honestly? Hearing your thoughts also makes me realize things, things I wouldn’t get to think about before—and who knows? By talking stuff out things could turn out differently than you’d expect.” He laces their fingers together, bringing their joined hands up to eye level. “So, uh, I don’t know if this is much of a solution, but we could try it! Like,” he gestures with his free hand between them, “us. This thing.”

“But SOARA,” Mori croaks out—he’s finally found his voice again, and Sora wants to sigh at that being the first thing out of his mouth.

“What about SOARA?” Something sparks in Sora’s memory, then, and he snaps his fingers. “Ah, if you’re worried about this potentially breaking us up, well, don’t. Have more faith in us, stop thinking about the ‘what if’s! You think too much.” He shrugs, then, bobbing his head side to side as he remembers more. “Though, I guess, sometimes that part about you really does come in handy.” He breaks out into a grin then. “See? We even complement each other.”

“Sora, I really do think you should think this through more carefully—”

“—I did!” Sora tightens his hold on Mori’s hand. “I thought about it ever since Rooftop Fight Number 2. Considering who I am, that’s a long time.”

Mori laughs, high and nervous. “I… I can’t deny that.”

“So!” He shakes their joined hands. “Are we good?”

“Sora, you can’t just jump into things like this—things won’t go as planned.”

“Things already haven’t gone according to plan, though?”

“...I can’t deny that either.”

“Anything else?”

“You shouldn’t force yourself into a relationship if you’re that unsure, Sora. Don’t just do it to make me feel better.”

“To that, well.” Sora suddenly lets go of his hand, only to dive in low to wrap his arms around Mori underneath his coat. He’s so _warm_ ; Sora already feels his limbs reviving from the warmth of his body, and his ear presses against the quick thump-thump of his pulse. “I’m not, because I realized I always want you with me, no matter what—” He squeezes, burying his face in Mori’s shirt. “—this uh, _thing_ may be. So I’m the one being selfish here.”

He can hear Mori’s pulse, fast and loud, and soon he feels a hesitant hand finding its way to Sora’s back. It lifts away, then, and soon a gust of cold air hits his not-quite-warmed limbs as Mori takes off his coat. The warmth quickly returns, though, as Mori gently wraps the coat around Sora. “Don’t regret this, okay?”

Sora grins at him, showing his teeth. “I won’t. And Mori? Be honest with me, okay?”

Mori laughs. “I guess I’ll try.”

“Don’t just try, _do_.”

“Easier said than done.” Mori looks at Sora, then quickly adds. “But okay, I promise. I’ll make that effort.”

“Good!” Sora straightens up, sticking his arms through the sleeves. “Wow, Mori, you’re already the perfect gentleman.” He wiggles his fingers underneath the cuffs—the sleeves are just a bit too long for him. “How is it? Am I cute?”

Mori quickly looks away. “Sora, please.”

Sora cackles in the cold air. “Just kidding!” Something dawns on him then, as he stares at his hands through the cuffs of Mori’s coat. “Wait… just wondering, but um.” He looks straight at Mori. “Since when did you, uh, like me?”

Mori turns around, but not before Sora catches the deep red he’s become. “Since, well.”

“Morihito-kun, let’s make this a practice session—for honesty!”

“Sora, that’s just twisting things around.”

Sora wraps himself around Mori from behind. “Well, then, fine. But tell me anyways, I’m super curious.”

“...Since high school.”

“What? Speak up, Mori, the wind is starting to pick up.”

“Since high school! First year,” he adds, in a whisper.

“Whoa.” Sora starts, backpedaling slightly. “That’s…”

“A long time?” He hides his face in his hand again. “Yeah, I know.”

“Wait, so you were keeping it a secret all this time?”

Mori makes a noncommittal sound, decidedly keeping his eyes averted.

“Mori…” Something else hits him, then. “Oh my god.” He clutches Mori’s arm, and turns himself to face Mori, even as he continues to try and hide. “Didn’t that one really hot third-year confess to you? You know, that one time in our second year? Wait, hold on a minute. Didn’t you get a confession like every _month_?” Sora starts counting on his fingers, but soon gives up—there’s too much to process, and it’s been a while. “I always wondered why you never said yes to any of them, but.” He looks up from his fingers, to a shining-red Mori. “Did you turn them all down,” he prods, “for _me_?”

Mori makes a sort of strangled noise and looks away, all as he tries to dodge Sora’s continuous chase to face him. “...More or less,” his whispers out, voice strained.

“Oh my god. Is this supposed to happen?” Sora’s hand suddenly flies to his chest. “My heart just kinda beat really hard, um. Is this why otome games are so popular? Is this how it feels to have a high-spec, super-good-looking person _liking_ me? And uh. This is weird, but. I’m kind of… feeling happy? Is this normal? Not to mention you had all those good-looking people confess to you but you turned them all down for me, so it’s like saying I’m more attractive than they are—” He stops, pausing to look at Mori; he squints closer at his glasses. “Is your prescription okay?”

Mori pushes Sora out of his face. “Sora!”

“What? I’m just saying!”

  
 

—————————

  
 

**omake:**

“I can’t believe,” Soushi sighs, as he sets down the heated pot at the middle of the table. “That it took that long for you two to figure it all out.” He snaps on the heat with a sharp _clink_ , and soon a fire roars to life underneath the giant pot.

“What?” Sora stares up at Soushi, who’s already headed back to the kitchen to bring more plates. “What do you mean, _'took that long'_? You make it sound like you already knew or something.”

Soushi comes back with a plate of sliced vegetables, and sets it down next to the pot. “More or less.”

“Sou! What!” Sora throws a leaf of cabbage at him. “The betrayal!”

“What betrayal?” Soushi easily dodges the leaf, but pauses to pick it up off the floor. “Look, I shouldn’t have had to deal with it all in the first place. It was your—” he jabs the leaf at Sora, “—and your—” he then turns to Mori, walking in with a plate of more ingredients, “—issue to figure out.”

Mori laughs, slightly apologetic. “Sorry, Sou. We really did cause you a lot of trouble.”

Soushi tosses the leaf into a nearby trashcan, and heads to the kitchen again. “Yeah, no kidding.”

Mori leans over Sora’s shoulder, setting his plate down near the middle. “Well, I do appreciate it. You’re a good friend, Sou.”

Soushi comes back from the kitchen, balancing a tray of meat on both hands. “Well, believe it or not I do care about you two idiots.” He smirks at Mori. “Though, it was an experience watching _you_ of all people lose it like that.”

“Hu~h, Mori-senpai, losing it?” Nozomu whistles at the thought. “Ouch,” he flinches; Soushi flicks away his hand, sneaking in and prematurely reaching for the meat.

“Anyways, I don’t mean it in a bad way. It means you should feel free to express yourself more, Mori.”

Mori nods at him. “I know, Sou. And thanks, really.”

“To be honest, I’m really relieved you two made up, Sora-senpai and Mori-senpai!” Ren starts dutifully passing out bowls and sauces, as Soushi starts putting the first of the ingredients in the boiling pot. “I was a little worried, but I’m glad it all worked out!”

“Well,” Sora looks at Mori, who’s taken his seat next to him. “Yeah. And it’ll keep working out, too.” His hand slips below the table to Mori’s to give it a quick squeeze at that last bit, as if reminding him, before breaking away and accepting a bowl from Ren. “Thanks, Ren.”

“I’m happy for you two, too!” Ah, Ren’s smile—it’s angelic, _pure_ , completely lacking any snark or sass! It’s a welcome relief from weeks of Soushi’s bluntness.

“Me too!” Nozomu cries, waving his bowl in the air.

“Nozomu, are you really?”

“Eh, to be honest, I had no idea about anything ‘til now.”

The rest of the table slumps in their seats. “Thought so.”

“But,” Nozomu continues, utensils ready and eyes scanning the bubbling surface of the pot. “Doesn’t it seem pretty normal? Or expected, I guess.”

“Huh?”

Nozomu’s eyes follow a particularly large piece of meat swirling between the bubbles. “I mean. If you think of Sora, or Mori-senpai, or either of them, do you ever think of one without the other?” He watches it rest against a chunk of potato. “If I think about it, I just imagine them always sticking together, even when they’re old and wrinkly. They’d probably still be making music together or something, don’tcha think?”

“Wow.” Ren shrinks away from him, back hitting Soushi’s shoulder as he backs away from Nozomu. “Nozomu… you said something _nice_.”

“What?” Nozomu turns, momentarily losing track of his meat. “I’m always nice!”

Sora snaps up the piece as it catches between a carrot and a mushroom. “Well, that’s up for debate.”

“Hey! Sora, that was mine!”

“Early bird, Nozomu! Early bird!” Sora stands and cackles, nose pointing in the air.

Nozomu gets up, joining him over the table. “Sora! You’re the worst!”

“There, there, Nozomu,” Mori pats Nozomu on the shoulder, gently pulling him back down with a soft smile. “Here, I’ll give you this piece. Let it go, okay?”

“Mori-senpai!!” Nozomu practically blubbers at him as he places a decent-sized piece into Nozomu’s bowl. “I take it all back, Mori-senpai! You’re too good for Sora!”

“What! You little—”

“—Nozomu, Sora, stop.” Soushi puts his hand between them, glowering as a terrified Ren looks here and there to prevent anything from spilling over. “If you keep this up, no more nabe for _either_ of you.”

**Author's Note:**

> ...and the whole time soushi is like oh my god you idiots. you're figuring this out on your own, _don't involve me,_ this isn't my problem to solve—ok fine i guess i am involved (rinse repeat literally every time sora and mori sob at him for help)
> 
>  
> 
> anyways! how this started:  
> me @ 2pm: "yes!! i'm gonna have fun and write from the pov of a chara with an! actual sense of humor! this is gonna be cute horror movies and slapstick fun!  
> me @ 2am: "im gonna write them being stressed and confused and having ~deep~ feelings and being so so awkward"
> 
>  
> 
> anyways soushi is literally the team kindergarten teacher, also team survival insurance; forget mori, someone give soushi a trophy instead and inscribe it with "kagurazaka soushi, soara MVP" bc they would all literally be dead or lost somewhere if it weren't for him. please, let soushi be happy, he cares a lot, he deserves it, let mori and sora make him happy instead of making him consider a transfer to growth
> 
> (additionally: cameo by ryota completely unnecessary but completely enjoyed because i love him he looks like he can kill you and will. actually kill you)


End file.
